


Until I Can't See

by Ivori



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Blind Stiles, Depressed Stiles, Erica and Boyd are alive, Fluff, How Do I Tag, M/M, Original Villain Character - Freeform, Scott is a Good Friend, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Wolf Derek, allison is alive, before S3b, druids and witches and sparks oh my, i'm in denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivori/pseuds/Ivori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The spell hits him in the chest, and dimly, he is aware that someone is screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost It All  -  Jill Andrews

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I tried this a while back but never really... did anything with it. So consider this round two?? I'm not sure how long it's going to be because as much as I like to pretend I'm in complete control of the things I write, in reality my fingers and the characters determine their futures, with me running along behind. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine! Tell me what you think? And please point out mistakes because... uh, reasons. 
> 
> The chapter titles are the songs that I listen to while writing, just so you know. That might change later on? Tags will also change and be updated as the story lengthens.

 

 

 

 

 

The spell hits him in the chest, and dimly, he is aware that someone is screaming. Everything slowly starts to fade as he falls to his knees. The ritual knife that's been pressed to his throat moves and he hunches over, gasping.

 

'Stiles! _Stiles!_ '

 

Stiles groans and clutches at his chest inside the circle of mountain ash, the stupid circle that is now keeping his friends from reaching him, _why is he friends with werewolves, why..._

 

The witch (druid? Thing? She'd said her name once, he thinks) grabs his hair, yanking it with such force that he cries out, holding him upright. 'Jennifer Blake was my _sister_.'

 

'Sorry about your childhood.' Stiles gasps out, and there's a funny ringing in his ears when the witch backhands him. He never really learned when he needed to keep his mouth shut, did he?

 

'Stop! Stop, leave him alone!' Scott's voice rings out desperately. 'We know she was your sister, we know! But it wasn't us, it was an Alpha Pack-'

 

'And I found her with her throat ripped out, slumped against an old stump like a discarded doll-' The witch continued on, talking over Scott. In the corner of Stiles' eyes he can see blue lines rippling out as Scott fought against the mountain ash barrier. 'I had to _bury_ her by those stupid roots because she'd started to _rot_ -'

 

There's another spell and he feels like his head is on fire. He can't see, everything is becoming frighteningly hazy, and all he can think of his how he got into this stupid situation.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

_'Are you sure?'_

 

 _'Look, Scott,' Stiles runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the concern in his best friend's voice. 'The letter was clearly left for me, and unless we meet whoever has been threatening to kill us, they'll_ actually _kill us.'_

 

_Scott groans, putting his face in his hands. 'I know, I know.'_

 

_'They could've killed us three times already, first at the school, then at Derek's loft at the Pack Meeting, and then this morning in the woods. But they didn't. We've got to figure this out.'_

 

_'I don't see why we can't just ignore them.' Lydia's voice is betraying her annoyance. 'I mean, if they were trying to kill us, why haven't they? What's the purpose in all this? Trying to kill us, then just letting everyone go? It doesn't make sense, but as long as they're not doing anyone any harm...' Lydia's face went pinched. 'Never-mind, after this morning there's no way they're as innocent as we first thought.'_

 

_'Each time they used mountain ash to keep everyone in. I don't think they were counting on a spark being part of the pack.' Allison says thoughtfully, sending a look over to Stiles, who had gotten them out all three times by breaking the circle. Stiles shrugs, it was just his job. Allison could've done it, and so could Lydia if she were to scream at it, but as a spark, the mountain ash just kind of...did what he wanted._

 

_'Read the note again, Stiles.' Derek growls. But that's okay, because Derek always growls. This one was his 'Why-me' growl. Stiles was proud to say that he was beginning to be able to tell the difference between that one and his 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-slowly; one. Sort of._

 

_Stiles eyes the paper laying on Lydia's fancy coffee table and swallows. The blood that was used to make the letters was still wet. 'Um.. do I have to?'_

 

_Derek rolls his eyes and picks up the paper, scanning it as though it hadn't been read over and over since this morning when Stiles found it plastered to his bedroom window. 'Meet at distillery. Midnight. Come alone, and no one else will be hurt.'_

 

_Scott's eyes do the thing where he's trying to be angry but he's still just an eighteen year old kid who has found himself in a very scary position. Stiles wraps and arm around his shoulders and wordlessly reassures him. It was natural, something they'd been doing for years. Like when Scott's dad had left and Scott spent all day crying into Stiles' bedsheets. Or when Melissa found out about weres and wouldn't even look her son in the eyes._

 

_'He's not going alone.' Scott says firmly._

 

 _Derek rolls his eyes. If he wasn't always such a brooding adult, Stiles could totally hear him saying,_ 'Well, duh.'

 

_'Obviously not, Scott.' Lydia says, and it's really just her version of 'well, duh', but the two reactions send relief spiraling down Stiles' spine. He already knew his friends, his pack, wouldn't let him get hurt or go by himself, but it was good to hear._

 

_'So... what do we do?' Isaac says from where he's been lounging on the couch, messing about on his phone._

 

_'Stiles goes in first.' Allison said. Everyone turned to listen, because she was the one who planned the best. Scott opened his mouth to say something, but Allison quickly continued, 'And I'll be right behind him. Scott, I want you coming in from behind with Derek and Lydia. Isaac will follow me in.'_

 

_Isaac lifted his head from the cushions. 'What about Erica and Boyd?'_

 

_Stiles shakes his head. 'No way we're dragging them back from their college tour, not at such short notice. We do have lives, still, and they were the only ones who haven't decided which one to attend yet.'_

 

_Derek makes a 'humph' noise and Stiles rolls his eyes. The fact that they'd all actually managed to get into college was a miracle in and of itself, not even counting the fact that it was the same college for everyone except Scott, who was attending a trade school for future veterinarians nearby. Erica and Boyd were still trying to decide between the community college or to go to the same one as everyone else. 'They'll stick near us, Derek, don't be such a sourwolf.'_

 

_The term was said fondly now, and Stiles returned the small smile he got from the older werewolf._

 

_'If that's the plan, then we better get a bite to eat before we go.' Lydia said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. 'I know I still have to find excuses to tell my mom about running around with you guys, so I'll get on that. You all hurry home and we'll meet on the road that heads to the distillery at eleven.'_

 

_Stiles checked his watch, eyes narrowing as he calculated how much time they had and wondering if he could sneak in a nap. His dad was on the night shift, had been for the past week, but he'd call in and tell him what was going on anyways._

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Stiles? Stiles, wake up, _please wake up_ -'

 

Someone was jostling his shoulder, which, _ow_ , that really hurt. Actually, his whole body hurt. _'Ached_ ,' he thought as he tried to open his eyes. Ached fit better.

 

'He's awake! Jesus Christ, _Jesus Christ_ -' Scott was too loud, his voice was too loud. Stiles thinks he makes a weird groaning noise and tries to bat his friend away.

 

'Stiles?' Oh, Deaton's here. Stiles slowly became aware of his surroundings, the cold table beneath him, how cold he was, so his shirt was gone. 'Stiles, can you hear me?'

 

'Yes.' Stiles says. It comes out sounding more like, ' _Yrrgh_.'

 

'Good, good. Scott,' He hears Deaton turn and start talking to Scott, who was obviously standing back a bit to give the vet (and unofficial supernatural patch-er upper) some room. 'Bring the sheriff in here. We need to talk.'

 

'Feel fine.' Stiles grunts as he tries to sit up. He's surprised that Deaton let him, but he goes to rub his eyes and is startled to realise they're already open. 'Uh... why's it so dark.'

 

It's suddenly quiet, Scott hasn't moved and Deaton's hand freezes from where it's been poking at Stiles' gut.

 

'Stiles...' Scott's voice is strained, like he's trying not to panic for Stiles' sake. 'It's not.'

 

That... that's odd. Because Stiles can't see anything even though he knows his eyes are open. 'Dude...please don't pull that shit on me right now, I'm barely functioning.'

 

But Deaton has removed his hand and Stiles suddenly flounders because _he can't see anything_. What was going on, what had happened??

 

He thought back frantically, remembering bits and pieces. They'd gotten to the distillery, he had heard the draw of Allison's bow behind him and-

 

And the witch lady had sent blue sparks at his bat, which then clubbed him in his _own_ head (traitor, going to throw it away when he got home), and before he knew it he was inside a circle of mountain ash, a funky knife held to his throat, Allison was yelling for Scott and Isaac was already fighting against the barrier when the witch tightened her grip on the knife and Stiles had- _Jesus_ , he'd squeaked for them to stop moving.

 

Then the whole story had been revealed, how Cera, the witch, was Jennifer's older sister, how she was here for revenge, how she'd set traps only to have them thwarted because Stiles would use his spark to break the mountain ash she'd used, how she was going to tear them all to pieces one-by-one, and that their stupid spark was going to be the first to go.

 

Stiles realised his breath was coming too quickly and that there were arms around his, _Scott_ , his mind supplied.

 

He remembers the spells, how it had ached and burned and how the knife had dug into the small of his back when he tried to shove her away and get to the barrier, remembered how Scott was howling and pounding at the blue magic that separated him from his best friend.

 

He remembers the last spell and how it'd made his entire head throb and how the world went black.

 

' _Breathe,_ kid, come on-' And suddenly his dad was there and it, well, it wasn't _okay_ , but it was better and his familiar weight was settled over his shaking shoulders and he could hear Scott arguing with Deaton.

 

'Dad-' Stiles gasps, fingers scrambling to fist in his father's uniform. 'Dad, I can't see, I can't _see_ -'

 

'It's okay, son, it's okay, just breathe, we'll figure it all out,' his dad is saying, and Stiles can't handle it anymore, his breath just _stops_ and if everything wasn't black already it would've faded like it always did when he passed out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for second chances! Okay I'm going to be completely honest here, I have no idea what I'm doing. None, whatsoever. I've read a few Blind!Stiles fics before and thought I'd try my hand at it. Hence the word splatter. Mistakes are mine because I don't have a Beta... Can I ask for one? Where do I find one?? What is the meaning of life???
> 
> Aha. Thanks for reading, and let me know about the mistakes you find so I can fix them!


	2. Make a Shadow - Meg Myers

 

 

 

 

When Stiles wakes next, he's in a hospital bed. He whimpers, because it's still so dark, but he can feel the heat of the sun coming through a window on his face and neck. It feels so _wrong_ and _off_ , because he knows he should be able to see.

 

His heart monitor beeps slowly and steadily. It's the only sound in the room besides his own breathing, which suddenly sounds _too loud_. His heart starts beating faster as panic sets in once more, and suddenly there's a hand on his. Stiles jumps, his heartbeat skyrocketing.

 

'Stiles, Stiles, calm down, it's just me-'

 

'Isaac?' Stiles gasps, but he's already relaxing now that he knows who is with him. His shoulders slump and he raises a hand to cover his eyes. Not that that does anything.

 

'Yeah, dude, it's okay-' Isaac's fumbling over his words. 'I just forgot that you couldn't-'

 

 _See_. The word hangs in the air even though Isaac hadn't said it.

 

It's like a punch to the fucking gut, because Stiles _knows_ he can't see, but he it hadn't really set it until right then. The hand on his moves up to his forearm, and suddenly a pain he wasn't even aware of behind his eyes lessens.

 

Stiles pulls his hand away from his face and realises it's wet with tears, he's crying. 'S-sorry.' He croaks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

 

'No, no you don't have to apologise, Stiles...' Isaac is clearly at a loss of what to say, and so he falls silent.

 

It's probably the first time Stiles is grateful for quiet. Everything is just too much right now, and he just... _can't_.

 

It's like that for a few minutes before the door opens and his dad's voice flutters over to him. 'Stiles?'

 

'Dad?' He pretends he doesn't notice the way his voice cracks and trembles on the word.

 

'I'm here, Stiles. I'm here.' The sheriff sits on the edge of the bed, Stiles can feel it dipping beneath his weight. Another hand touches his leg and he flinches even though he knows it's his dad. 'It's going to be okay, son.'

 

' _Dad_ ,' Stiles says, and then he sobs. His father's arms wrap around his shaking shoulders and he just shatters. Dimly, he's aware that the door opens and he can hear Isaac's breath hitching as he gives father and son a moment to be by themselves.

 

'It's going to be okay.' John's voice is raspy. 'It's going to be okay.'

 

 

 

 

 

–

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles hates hospitals. Ever since his mother died he's avoided them as best he can. That doesn't mean that he _succeeds_ , per say. Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital seems to be a hotspot for unfortunate supernatural occurrences. Especially since they'd done the whole 'dead' thing with the Nemeton.

 

Stiles had listened as the doctor repeated what Melissa had already told them, then zoned out. It was so easy to do now that everything was always dark. He didn't need to hear that the doctors had no idea why Stiles' eyes would just stop working, or that all the ridiculously invasive tests they'd preformed had no positive results. They'd even stuck a needle into his eye, apparently. The needle had been too small for Stiles to feel, and he decided that if he couldn't see the stupid thing go in then all the better.

 

The door opened, startling Stiles. That was also a new thing, the jumpiness. Melissa had said it was normal, usually eyes caught all sorts of things before ears did. Stiles would just have to get used to it. He had put on a fake grin and said that he'd always wanted to learn braille. He couldn't see her face, so he couldn't tell if Melissa had fallen for his little act, but from the sigh he heard, she hadn't.

 

'So he can go home now?' Stiles swiveled his head towards his father's voice.

 

The doctor seemed to shuffle a bit on his feet, clipboard tapping against something. 'Yes. If anything changes, let us know.'

 

His father's hand slipped from his grasp as he undoubtedly shook the doctor's hand. 'Thank you.'

 

'No problem. See you, Stiles.'

 

'Bye.' Stiles' voice was quiet as he listen to the doctor leaving, the door shutting, and his father standing up. The chair creaked, and Stiles was surprised he caught that little detail.

 

'Can you get up by yourself?' The sheriff asked.

 

Stiles wanted to nod. He wanted to get up and walk around and function as well as he always did. But he didn't know where to step, where to move so he didn't hit the side table thingy he'd eaten his lunch off of (that had been a disaster he didn't care to repeat).

 

'No.' Stiles whispered, his voice cracking a little from disuse.

 

He can hear his father hesitating, and it makes him shrink into himself as much as he can, wrapping his arms around himself and bringing his knees to his chest. There's an annoying _tube_ thing that's in the way and when he pulls at it, something falls over. Tears prick his eyes and he hates that even when he shuts them, nothing changes.

 

'Stiles...' John says, and then there's another pause.

 

Stiles knows why. What do you say to someone that's recently gone blind?

 

There's an awkward silence, then his dad is helping him stand and hands him his clothes and tells him which way is the front and which way is the back. Stiles doesn't know what's more pathetic, that he has to have his dad help him dress, or that he doesn't know if his father turns away when he strips off his hospital gown.

 

When they're in his dad's patrol car, he finally works up the courage to ask, 'What happened?'

 

There's a huff from his dad. 'I honestly don't know. Scott said to let him handle it, and after he told Melissa, she handled it. I've just been by you.'

 

Stiles is quiet for a moment, then whispers, 'Dad, how much did it cost?'

 

'What?' His father's voice sounds a bit confused, and Stiles holds a hand out, trying to touch him.

 

'The bill.'

 

John's voice is hard. 'Stiles, you're not going to worry about that. You never _should've_ been worried about that.'

 

'I didn't need to go to the hospital. It was magical, no way it left a trace.' Stiles pulls his hand back, licking his lips.

 

'It did, actually.'

 

'What?'

 

'It left a trace.' Stiles' father says, his voice softening. 'There were scorch marks all over your chest and eyes.'

 

Stiles isn't sure what to say to that, other than a quiet, 'Oh.'

 

 

 

 

–

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waking up is hard. Harder then it should be. Mostly because Stiles is never sure if he's up or not yet. This morning is no different. He sits up and blinks.

 

And blinks and blinks and blinks because nothing has changed. It's been, what, four days now? And today Scott was coming over to help reorganise his room. His dad had been very, _very_ strict about being left alone when he got home, something about being overwhelmed.

 

Secretly, he was glad his father had ordered the pack away. He'd thought he'd known his own house by heart, but it's very different when you can't just flick on a light switch to see where you're going.

 

He'd already stubbed too many toes on furniture he'd been unaware of.

 

His phone is ringing, sounding the text alert, and he has to stop himself. It hurts to remember that texting is now a thing of the past.

 

Whoever texted him seems to realise the same thing, because then it's ringing again and this time it's a call, and Stiles falls off the edge of the bed when he reaches over to answer it. After a lot of unnecessary swearing, Stiles untangles himself from his sheets and answers it. 'Hello?'

 

'Stiles? You okay?' It's Scott.

 

Stiles is panting a bit and rubs a hand over his hip, which he managed to hit on his bedside table during his fight with gravity. 'Yeah. Yeah, I just..fell.'

 

He can practically _feel_ Scott's concern and it makes him angry, all of a sudden. He's not sure why, but it makes his jaw clench and his teeth are gritted as he listens to Scott tell him that he'll be at his house in a few minutes with _Derek_ of all people.

 

The true alpha is true to his word (hah, true alpha being true) and the doorbell rings. Stiles just yells for them to come up, because _werewolf hearing_. Plus, he doesn't want to risk getting lost in his own house again if he leaves the safety of his bed.

 

Or, well, his floor.

 

There's the front door, opening and closing, then footsteps on the stairs. When someone knocks, Stiles focuses on not jumping. He fails, but no one is there to know that.

 

'Dude, you don't have to knock.' He says, and then the door to his bedroom flies open and Scott's arms are around him and maybe he's still kind of angry but not _that_ angry. So he hugs him back.

 

'How're you feeling?' Scott says a few minutes later, when it's been established that Stiles is still alive. He supposes it's weird for Scott in a way, because Stiles is usually blowing up his phone with random texts all day, or they're in school. Thank god his dad had insisted he stayed home for a few weeks.

 

Stiles just ends up shrugging, because he wasn't dead, right? Just magically blind. It could've been worse.

 

Derek has occupied the chair beside Stiles' desk, and hasn't spoken until now. 'Deaton and Chris have the druid.'

 

That gets Stiles' attention, and he turns his head to where Derek's voice had come from. 'She's not dead?'

 

'No.' Derek says, and Stiles can kind of see his face in his head, he's probably doing the eyebrows thing. The one that means he wasn't happy with how it turned out but he wasn't going to argue with Scott. 'Scott broke the mountain ash barrier and it threw her into the wall. Isaac and I had her pinned while we waited for your dad.'

 

Stiles shot a look over to where Scott was fiddling nervously with some of the homework papers he'd gotten from school. Apparently, going blind wasn't going to get him any special favours. 'You called my dad?'

 

Scott sounds defensive. 'What was I supposed to do? You were all..burned and glowy and passed out!'

 

'I don't like having my dad being brought into these things, Scotty. We only just told him about werewolves, I don't think he's ready for witches and druids and the explanations that go along with them.' Stiles huffs, picking at a thread on his sleeve. He pulls to hard and looses his grip, then scowls when he can't find it again.

 

'He did fine.' Derek says, startling him a bit. He's really not used to Derek being this..chatty. 'He's stronger than you think, Stiles.'

 

'I know he's strong.' Stiles replies, and oh great, now _he's_ the one sounding defensive. Stiles forces himself to relax, then he licks his lip and lets out a long sigh. 'What happened after?'

 

'We brought you to Deaton. He examined you the best he could, but there wasn't much that he could do until you woke up.' Scott's voice is soft and Stiles feels it when he sits on the bed next to him. 'He said he couldn't really find any external injuries, just the burns on your chest and by your eyes. After you passed out again, Deaton did some digging.'

 

Stiles makes a face. 'The fuck does that mean, 'digging'?'

 

He hears Derek sigh. The chair creaks as he leans forward. 'He put a spell on your eyes, I think. No one really knows exactly what Deaton does, but that's when we figured out what Cera did.'

 

'Cera?' Stiles feels like a parrot, but he's so confused.

 

'That's her name. Apparently she was just trying to pull at your spark, but all the different spells put together and the way your spark fought back...' Derek pauses. 'Deaton thinks that's what caused your eyes to stop working right.'

 

There's a tension in the room that's almost palpable. If Stiles had a knife, he could probably cut it. He swallows hard and closes his eyes. It still bothers him that there's not a single difference in the darkness. 'Can it be fixed?'

 

And there's that awkward silence, back again.

 

Scott lets out a long, slow breath. 'We don't know.'

 

'Okay.' Stiles says, and really, what else is there to say? He hadn't been particularly hopeful, just in case.

 

After a bit, Scott nudges him in the shoulder and asks if he wants pizza.

 

Stiles nudges him back and tells him that he always wants pizza.

 

Derek scoffs and calls them both idiots.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love not being busy. 
> 
> The evil plan that I am forming in my head may or may not come to pass because who knows anything when it comes to Stiles Stilinski. I can say, though, that I plan on having his spark take a more active role in this story then it does in cannon. (WHY, JEFF, WHY WAS IT SWEPT UNDER THE RUG HE DID MAGIC AND IT WAS COOL)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy. If I need to change some tags or add warnings please let me know! I'm new. Also, any mistakes made are mine.


	3. Holland - Glass Face

 

 

 

 

It's day seven when Stiles first feels his spark flicker back to life in his chest. It flutters like a butterfly, and until then Stiles was completely unaware of how much he'd missed it. Whatever Cera had done hadn't been successful, thank god.

 

'Dad, I'm fine, I can do this.' Stiles says, moving away from his father's grasp.

 

'Stiles, you don't have to rush yourself.' His dad said, and Stiles can tell by his voice that he's getting frustrated. 'Melissa said it's going to take a lot of time to adjust, and I just want you to know that-'

 

'I know, dad!' Stiles pulls at his hair, his voice showing he's just as frustrated as his father is. 'I'm _blind_ , not stupid, okay? I know I'm not going to just bounce back.'

 

He swallows hard and kind of wishes there was a 're-wind' button, because even though he's upset, he didn't mean to snap at his father like that. His shoulders slump and he lets out a long sigh. 'Sorry, I just-'

 

'No, son, it's okay.' John says, and _damnit_ , it's not okay, because his dad is the only person he has with him, the only person that has always, _100%_ been on his side, and he doesn't have any right to be so short with him when all he's shown is support.

 

Stiles leans against the wall and wonders how many times he'd have to hit his forehead on it to leave a dent in the plaster. He apologises again. 'I'm sorry.'

 

'Jesus, Stiles, will you quite saying sorry?'

 

Stiles raises his head, confused. 'What- why?'

 

It's John's turn to sigh. Stiles can hear the scrape of calloused fingers on wrinkled skin and knows his dad has covered his eyes with one hand. 'Because this isn't your fault. And it's okay to get mad, or be scared, or yell at me sometimes, okay?'

 

Stiles swallows again. Curling up in a ball on the floor to avoid having this conversation with his father isn’t an option, so he settles for humour. He's flexible like that. 'Only sometimes, though?'

 

'Only sometimes.' He can hear the smile in his dad's voice, no matter how hard he tries to sound like he's still frustrated. 'Now, c'mon. Let's try again. Fourteen steps from the door to the couch, three from there to the stairs, twelve steps and then the landing...'

 

They practice for a good hour, and Stiles works hard to remember everything. He won't, of course; it's going to take a lot of time to get used to being blind. Time he isn't actually willing to spend, because he wants to call Lydia and ask how research is going. Which is another whole can of worms because he feels so useless. Usually _he's_ the one doing crazy amounts of internet browsing, but now he's stuck waiting. And holy god, if he has to listen to Scott trying to interpret Lydia's words again he will throw something. At anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

–

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'No, _I know_ , Lyds.' Stiles growls, and he kind of wants to laugh at how many habits he's picked up after living with werewolves. 'I just wanted to ask-'

 

'If you know, then you shouldn't ask.' Lydia says primly, her voice scratching a bit over the phone. Stiles had tossed it on his bed after putting it on speaker so he could pace his room, getting a feel for it once more. 'Scott's been asking since Tuesday, and Derek's been asking since you woke up on Deaton's exam table. The bite won't do anything to fix your eyes because, to your body, they aren't broken. Magic took away your sight, and only magic can give it back. Now, will you shut up so I can read you what I found about Cera?'

 

Stiles bites his lip and tries to think about how much he loves Lydia and all she does for the pack, and _not_ about how much he kind of wants to strangle her. He sighs in defeat and can practically _hear_ the smirk she undoubtedly is wearing. 'Fine.'

 

'Thank you.' There's the sound of pages rattling and shuffling. 'So, Cera and Jennifer were sisters, daughters to Anthony and Michael Blake. Michael died of 'cancer', but I think it was actually a magical accident.'

 

'How so?' Stiles pauses his pacing and tries to remember how many steps lay between him and his bed. He thinks only four.

 

'Because I've got the paperwork, and having the majority of your insides turn to mush doesn't sound like any sort of cancer I know of.' More shuffling, and Stiles winces. 'Also, apparently Cera was around seven at the time, and Jennifer was maybe five or six.'

 

'His insides were liquified?' Stiles says, still kind of hung up on that super gross mental image. 'And they went with _cancer_?'

 

'Focus, Stiles. That was just the coroner's report. Cera got really bad grades all throughout school, she never could focus and her temper was.... wait, I want to quote the report card. Right, her temper was, 'fiery enough to make the devil himself run away screaming'. I'm thinking that she lost control of her magic a lot.'

 

Stiles scoffs, then curses as he hits the bed earlier then he thinks. Three and a half steps at most.

 

'Yeah. So Anthony signed her up for counseling, but all of her records there were destroyed. Even your dad couldn't get access to anything.' Lydia sighs, and Stiles can hear her muttering to herself. 'So overall, she was wild and crazy and always angry and she probably killed one of her dad's when she was little on accident.'

 

'And that, combined with Jennifer's death, was enough to make her pull a crazy stunt even _Peter_ wouldn've attempted?' Stiles clarifies, rubbing at his bruised knee. If he could see them, he had no doubt they'd be all the different colours of the rainbow. His knees had always been the first to suffer from his clumsy ways, and he had never really been the epitome of grace when he got older. Being blind didn't help that. Now he ran into anything and everything.

 

'Seems so. Jennifer was always the calmer one, apparently. Good grades, no criminal record. I think that Jennifer kept Cera from doing anything too crazy, and when she went crazy _herself_...'

 

Lydia didn't need to finish her sentence. Stiles understood, sort of. Scott was the calmer one in their bromance, and if Scott suddenly went bat-shit crazy, Stiles wouldn't know what to do.

 

'Well, thanks, Lyds. You'll let me know if you or Deaton find anything else, right?' Stiles says after a bit of silence. 'Anything of magical eye-sight reparation variety?'

 

'Of course. Don't forget that Derek will be there tonight to pick you up for the Pack Meeting.' Lydia says.

 

'Oh, I forgot. Why can't we just have it here at my place again?' Stiles whines, letting himself fall back onto his bed, legs dangling off the edge. 'I know I'd prefer to move around a place I'm more familiar with.'

 

'There's hardly any furniture in the loft, Stiles, you'll be fine.' Lydia says. They exchange goodbyes, then she hags up. Stiles just blinks his eyes and tries to see anything, even just vague shapes or shadows.

 

He thinks the worse bit about being blind is that he knows what the world looks like. He knows what his father looks like, what Scott looks like, what mountains look like. He's read books and enjoyed the epicness that was his laptop and his phone, and to have it all taken away so suddenly...

 

It hurts. It hurts and it makes him want to tear his hair out and scream at the universe that it's so unfair, it's so un-fucking-fair that this has to happen to him. What did he do to deserve any of this? All the shit with Peter and Matt and those stupid Alphas... _Jesus_ it made him so mad.

 

By the time Derek showed up, he was seething. He tried not to take it out on anyone at the Pack Meeting, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded or not. In the end, he just sat dejectedly on the edge of Derek's couch while everyone else discussed possible cures. Even Scott had done some digging.

 

It had to have been at least nine when Deaton called, his usually calm voice sounding rushed and panicked.

 

'Derek?' Deaton asked. Derek put the phone on speaker and held it out so everyone could hear.

 

'You're on speakerphone.' Derek grunted. 'What is it?'

 

'She escaped.'

 

Stiles isn't the only one that cries, 'What??', but Deaton's already talking over them.

 

'Chris went down to give her some water but the door was open. She shouldn't have been able to do that, and I am well aware that something is amiss.'

 

'Deaton, can you drop the whole aura of mystery and tell us what the hell is going on?' And oh, that's Allison's angry voice. It has only been directed at Stiles once, and once was enough, thank you very much. Never again was he going to try and go through her poem folder.

 

'The chains she was bound with were broken, and she cut off her hand.' Deaton says, like it's nothing. Stiles feels like puking, because suddenly, he's in danger again. What had Cera said? Something about picking them off one by one and starting with Stiles. 'We think she did some sort of blood ritual, although how she managed to cut off her own hand is past me.'

 

'How long ago do you think she got out?' Derek growls.

 

'Not very long, the blood wasn't quite cold when we got down there.' Deaton replies. 'I called as soon as I got back up the stairs and to my phone. Someone should probably stay with Stiles, but we'd like all the 'wolves to come help us track her down. If she's desperate enough to escape that she's willing to cut off her own hand, I don't want to know what else she's planning on doing.'

 

'I'll stay.' Allison says immediately, and Stiles wants to die. Not only did he have an insane maniac on his tail, he was so pathetic that he needed _protection_. He'd been working so hard on not being the pathetic human that needed saving for weeks, and it's all reduced to nothing when his sight is taken from him. He'd even been cultivating his spark, making it do cool things with mountain ash. He could throw it and it'd land in a perfect circle and he could press it into different objects (mostly chains or ropes) and it'd keep anything magical from escaping, and two weeks ago Deaton had taught him to do this cool location spell thingy where if he laid out a map and whispered the right words he could-

 

Oh, my god. He was so stupid. 'Guys, I know how to find her!'

 

Everyone had continued talking and planning, and now they froze.

 

'Get me some mountain ash and a map of Beacon Hills.'

 

No one moved, and Stiles finally stands up. 'Guys, I can do that locator spell! Get me some god damned mountain ash and a map! I'd find it myself, but my fucking eyes aren't working right now, so-'

 

'Got it.' Derek says, and Scott leads him to the counter. As soon as a jar is pressed into his hands he can feel his spark bubbling to life and sending a chill down his spine. There's the crinkling of paper and he's suddenly so glad that Derek and technology doesn't mix, because no way this would've worked if they used _Google Maps_.

 

Stiles closes his eyes even though he doesn't need to anymore and his spark sends warmth zinging to his fingers as he grabs a fistful of mountain ash and breathes, ' _Find, point, guide_.'

 

He slowly releases the ash and feels magic coursing through his body.

 

'Fuck.' Scott says, and Stiles is kind of happy he can't see right now, because Scott is Scott and he doesn't swear unless things are really bad. Even Lydia swears more then Scott.

 

'What?' Stiles asks.

 

'She's at the Nemeton.'

 

And, yeah, fuck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

–

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The waiting is the worst. Stiles can handle everything that's thrown at him, even the fucking blindness. But waiting? He's never been good at being patient.

 

'Stiles, please stop pacing, you're making _me_ nervous.' Allison says from her place on the couch.

 

'I'm counting, it's something I'm supposed to do anyways. Don't make me sit still, Allie-A.' Stiles responds. Except he's stopped counting twenty minutes ago because he'd already done as much as he could. Fifty-nine steps from the door to the far wall, twenty-seven from Derek's bed to the couch.

 

Allison sighs, and then they both jump when her phone rings. She answers it right away and Stiles turns to face the sound of her voice, ears strained for hints of what's happening on the other end.

 

'Okay.' Allison says, then pauses. 'Right, and he's-'

 

Another pause. Stiles is going to go insane.

 

'Okay. We'll be right there. Love you, dad.' Allison hangs up and then there's an arm around his. 'C'mon, we're going to the Nemeton. Apparently, Cera has bound herself to that stupid old stump and she's holding Deaton hostage.'

 

'What? What the fuck happened?' Stiles says incredulously as he's pulled out of Derek's loft and down the hall to take Lydia's car.

 

'I don't know the details, but when everyone found her she was trying to do some sort of sacrifice, I think?' Allison's voice is breathless as she unlocks the car and slips in. Stiles pretends not to be embarrassed when she has to help him with his seat-belt. 'Deaton tried to tell her that what she was doing was wrong and that it isn't what Jennifer would want-'

 

And suddenly Stiles feels very, very cold. Because he remembers where Cera had said she buried Jennifer and the word 'sacrifice' is still ringing in his head.

 

'-and then she grabbed him and she tied herself to the tree with her magic and then there was a flash of light and Deaton started bleeding-' Allison stops abruptly as her phone rings again. 'Hello?'

 

'T-trap-' It's Isaac's voice, and Stiles does not like the way it sounds wet and strangled, even over the speaker. 'Don't come.'

 

'Isaac, _Isaac!_ ' Allison yells, then swerves sharply to the left, making Stiles' head collide with the window.

 

'Ow, _fuck_ , Allison, what-'

 

'We're getting your dad. I don't like this at all, she's a fucking _witch_ , there's no way she'd just let Isaac call me-'

 

'Allison, it didn't exactly sound like he had much of a _choice_ -'

 

' _Exactly_.' Allison growls, and her phone is tossed on Stiles' lap. His hands shake as he grabs it and holds it up to his ear.

 

He takes a breath to call out Isaac's name, when he hears, ' _Good, good boy. Wolves are so easy to manipulate, you shoot one dog down and the entire pack comes running_ -'

 

The call ends and Stiles curses. 'Allison, it's an actual trap.'

 

'I know, Stiles. Which is why we're not going alone.' Allison huffs. 'Call your dad.'

 

Stiles goes to do so, but freezes. He croaks, 'A-Allison... I can't see the screen.'

 

Allison is silent for a moment and there's a horn that honks behind them and she's probably doing some very illegal shit to get them to the precinct quicker. Then she breathes, 'Sorry. I, um..'

 

'Forgot.' Stiles finishes, and he tries to stomp down the bitterness that wells inside him.

 

Allison takes her phone back and calls Stiles' dad's personal number, quickly giving him a rundown as they pull into the parking lot. Stiles is so used to driving over those particular bumps, he's felt them beneath him since he was a kid and his dad would take him to work after his mother died. Allison helps him out and suddenly his dad is there and he's being guided into- fuck, wait, _no_ , he's supposed to be going with Allison to the Nemeton. His father's grip on his upper arm is strong enough that he winces as he's marched into the precinct, struggles be damned.

 

'Parrish!' His dad yells, and Stiles writhes against his father's hold.

 

'Dad, no, I've got to help, I can' just wait here, _Dad, listen to me_ -'

 

'Don't let him out of your sight, I have to go deal with a disturbance on the Hale Preserve.' His dad is saying, and Stiles feels different fingers wrapping around his arms.

 

'Dad! Dad, _stop_ , you have to listen to me! She's got _magic_ and Deaton's out of the game right now, I need to be there, dad, _dad_ -'

 

But his father is gone and Stiles is left in darkness, his breath coming in panicked pants and he can feel tears in his eyes. And he can't even just _leave_ because he can't fucking _see_.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this chapter was fun to write. Sorry about the cliff-hanger? Except I'm kind of not, because I'm evil. Mwahahaha, suffer.
> 
> Also, Stiles has a thing for nicknames. Lyds, Allie-A. Prepare yourselves for more in the future. When he and Derek are established they're going to get all gross and mushy, probably.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so mistakes are mine. Visit me on tumblr! I'm thinking of asking for some prompts, because... reasons. ivoriholmes.tumblr.com


End file.
